


Halo - Burnt Blood

by SilverHalos88



Category: Alien Series, Halo (Video Games) & Related Fandoms
Genre: Action, Action/Adventure, Alien Nest, Armor, Battle Scenes, Blood and Injury, Forerunner Ruins, Gen, Horror, Military, Power Armor, Scary, Sci/fi, Soldiers, Technology, Tense, alien hive
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-24
Updated: 2021-01-24
Packaged: 2021-03-16 18:47:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 13,672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28961184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilverHalos88/pseuds/SilverHalos88
Summary: "Kirk-018 is a washed out Spartan who spent the Covenant war stuck in one medical bay after another. It has taken decades to rehabilitate him from the damage done by the augmentation process he and the other Spartans underwent as children. Now he has the second chance he has been waiting so long for. Sent to a supposedly tame research facility in a far off part of UNSC space to test whether he is truly capable of being the Spartan he was once meant to be, Kirk soon finds himself neck deep in a swarm of creatures never before seen in the galaxy, creatures so deadly even a fully fledged Spartan might not be enough to stop them. The xenomorphs have awakened..."So this is something I wrote a few years back, but its still one of my favorite ever stories. I've always thought the Halo and Aliens universes would make an awesome crossover, so I went and made one! This story was actually one long piece, but I've decided to break it down into chapters to make it easier to read. Also for context this story takes place in between Halo 4 and 5. Anyways, I hope you enjoy it as much as I do! :D
Kudos: 1





	1. The Mission

Corporeal Dan Edwards ran for his life.   
His assault rifle hung uselessly by his side, its clip long since empty. He couldn’t believe the thing was still standing. He had been briefed about the Prometheans, they all had, but he never thought they would be that tough. His squad had been on patrol like normal, doing their rounds of the Forerunner facility like they did every few hours, when the Knight had walked out in front of him, a dozen crawlers accompanying it. Three of his squad fell when the crawlers charged him. Another two were turned to ash when the Knight fired the shotgun-like weapon attached to its arm. They still put up a good fight though, taking out most of the crawlers before the Knight had reached them. A swing of its energy blade quickly took out the rest of his squad. When the squad leader had order them to retreat, Edwards had to force himself to run. The UNSC didn’t train cowards, but the situation was clear; the Knight was going to kill them all. So he run, hoping like hell he remembered the route through the alien structure. He didn’t dare look behind him. All he could hear was his feet slamming against the metal floor and his heart threatened to beat out of his chest. Skidding around the corner, he barely took a dozen steps before seeing the dead end in front of him. He spun around. It was too late.   
The knight appeared around the corner.  
It was the sound it made that struck Edwards, that weird biomechanical noise that just didn’t seem right somehow. It twisted its strange angular head, its eyes glaring at him while it second set of inner arms twitched. Edwards’ hands raced over his body, desperately looking for another clip but finding nothing. It took a step forward. Edwards fumbled for his Magnum, but fear was infecting his movements.   
The Knight screamed at him and raised its weapon.   
Edwards closed his eyes.  
His body tensed as the sound of the blast hit him. Again and again the blasts echoed off the walls, sounding like thunder. Then, just like that, silence fell across him. Was he dead? There was no pain, no anything. After a few seconds, he forced his eyes open. The Knight was nowhere to be seen. In its place was nothing more than a pile of still burning embers. A movement behind the ash caught his attention. An impossibly tall figure stepped forward, clad in mighty grey armour tinged with red highlights. The shotgun it held in its hands still had smoking coming out of the tip.   
“You have to get them in their weak spots,” the Spartan said as it stepped forward. “Kirk-018. Follow me, I’ll get you back to base.”

Deep within the armoured hull of the destroyer, the UNSC Darkest Night, Kirk-018 sat in silence. He watched carefully as the technicians serviced his Mjolnir armour, noting every detail of their operations. He already knew how the armour worked, he had done from the first time they had fitted him with the suit, one of the newer models with all the bells and whistles. He watched everything carefully now. Beside him, the air shimmered with light.   
“How’s it going today, Kirk?” Sigmund, the smart AI assigned to watch over him, said as his avatar’s form stabilized. Kirk glanced at the image of the smartly dressed man with glasses on his left.   
“I’m fine Siggy.” Kirk said simply, turning his eyes back to his armour.   
“Still not comfortable wearing it, huh?” Sigmund said softly, his blue light form looking up at the Spartan with concern. “That’s ok you know. You’ve still got a lot to catch up on.”   
“I’m ok Sigmund, really. It’s just taking a while to get used to it.” Kirk said, ignoring the memory of the claustrophobia he had felt the first few times he had worn the armour. A side effect of the treatment, they told him. Kirk’s eyes dropped to his forearms, tracing the line of scars that ran across his pale skin. There had been a lot of side effects.   
“You’re needed up on the briefing room. Captain Dolma wants a word with you. And remember, I’m here if you want to talk.” Sigmund said before vanishing. Kirk took one final look at his armour, then pushed himself to his feet and headed for the elevator.

“We’ve lost contact with a research station on HT-07. High command wants us to investigate.” Captain Dolma said to the assembled crowd in the briefing room. A tall man of Kenyan descent, Dolma was a well-respected navel officer in the UNSC, having fought his fair share of battles in the war with the Covenant. So how he ended up commanding a routine mission in a dead end sector of space was a subject of much discussion amongst the rank and file. Some said he had punched out his superior, others that he was winding down for retirement with a few easy assignments. Whatever the truth, the crew of the Darkest Night were glad to have him.   
“It’s likely just a downed transmitter, but our ship AI was having trouble communicating with the site even before it went dark. Now they’ve had a few storms recently, but with the recent Promethean activity, High Command wants to be sure. Captain Weaver, you’ll lead your squad into the facility and re-establish communications. Assume full combat zone, so go fully equipped. Spartan-018 here will be accompanying you as back up. We’ll be on station in a few hours, so prep as needed now. Any questions?” Dolma asked, his worn brown eyes scanning the dozen people before him.  
“Yeah, I got one.” A young man, corporeal Miehn, asked. “I thought Hequila-Tanara was a dead system? Why’s it all kicking off now?” A murmur of approval went through the squad. It was a valid question. No one had even heard of the Hequila-Tanara system since a before a few years ago, when someone had found the coordinates for it in some Forerunner relic somewhere. The planets didn’t even have names yet, just designations. Originally, there had been a lot of hope when the initial recon teams had found Forerunner ruins on the majority of the planets, but that had quickly vanished when it was discovered that they were all pretty much inert. There was no activity in them at all, and the system was considered more a training area for new scientists than anything else. It was only in the last few weeks that things had begun to change, with more and more sightings of Prometheans stalking the long dormant structures. It wasn’t a full on conflict zone, but many of the crew had been grateful for at least some action.  
“I’ll tell you why. One of those wannabe eggheads put their nose in something they shouldn’t and now don’t know how to turn it off.” Said a smart mouthed private that Kirk hadn’t got the name of.   
“Stow the attitude, Baxson.” Captain Weaver said, her fierce green eyes cutting into him like blades. She was a tall woman whose naturally curly black hair had been cut short, and had an athletic build that was more than capable of backing up her words with force if it came to it. The marine, Baxson, tipped his head towards her with a smirk on his face, but didn’t say anything else.   
“The truth is we don’t know.” Dolma said in his distinctive, attention grabbing voice. “At this point it could be anything, which is why I want you prepared for anything. So far the Promethean incursions have been light, but that could change at any time, so get in there, get the job done and get home. Leave everything else to those qualified to deal with it. You’re dismissed.” With that, the marines started to file out of the briefing room. Kirk went to follow, but Weaver placed a hand on his arm as he passed and pulled him aside. She waited until the room was empty before speaking.  
“Captain, is it wise to send our friend here into an unknown situation? What with his condition.” Weaver said, eyeing him up as she spoke.   
There it was.  
She knew. Or at least, she knew the rumours.  
Kirk-018 wasn’t a real Spartan, at least not in his mind. At the age of fourteen he had washed out of the program when the augmentation process left him crippled and in agonizing pain. He had spent over a decade in and out of medical cryo pods as they tried to fix what Halsey had done to him. Even more years were spent hooked up to the most advanced medical machines humanity could create, pumping him full of drugs and slowly chipping away at unbreakable bones that had been twisted into shapes that would kill a normal person. All the while he had been held in some half-awake state, barely aware of what was happening, not sure if the stories he heard about his friends were real or just dreams. It was strange though. He didn’t blame Halsey or anyone else in the program. He blamed himself. He had trained all his life to become better, to become more, and when it came to the final test, he had failed. He wasn’t strong enough.   
He almost hadn’t believed it when they finally fixed him. He could still remember the first step he took by himself, the first time he felt the full benefits of the things they had stuck inside him. It was great, but no matter what he did he couldn’t shake that feeling of failure. The war was already over. But the powers at be demanded Spartans, so here he was, an easy mission to assess whether or not he could handle being the weapon they made him into. With him, an army of doctors and technicians, and his own personal psych AI to watch for any signs of mental breakdown. Was there any wonder rumours got out? He doubt any of them knew the truth, but then, they didn’t need to. They already doubted him.   
“What do you mean, Captain?” Dolma asked. He was one of the few of the crew he knew the truth. Weaver shrugged her shoulders.  
“Hey, it’s been a long, dull rotation. Boredom and alcohol are great ways to get people talking. They say our tall friend here is broken somehow. Now I don’t know much about Spartans, but I don’t want to risk my people or the operation to the chance he might freak and take us all out.” She glanced at him. “No offense.”   
“I’m going to say this once.” Dolma said in his most commanding voice, standing up straight and looking at both of them in turn. “You will go to HT-07 together, as one squad. You will get the job done and return here safe and sound, and when you do I’ll have my personal supply of cigars waiting for you. No one is going to freak out, no one is going to jeopardize the mission. Understood?”   
“Yes sir.” The two said in unison. Without waiting another second, Weaver left the room and followed after her marines. Kirk went to leave, but as he did, Dolma spoke again. “Don’t let me down son. You’re a Spartan, remember.” For a moment Kirk just paused where he stood. He looked over his shoulder back at the Captain. But he didn’t say anything. A second later, Kirk walked out.


	2. The Abandoned Base

The hum of the pelican’s engines was a reassuring constant in the storm of noise as HT-07’s thick atmosphere battered the landing craft. Every now and then, the pelican would be violently pushed to one side, but by the large, the trip down to the research base was relatively smooth.   
“Your pulse just spiked.” Sigmund said inside Kirk’s helmet. Kirk rolled his eyes.  
“We both know that happens every time I drop.” Kirk said, making sure his microphone was off so that the others in the cabin couldn’t hear him. “I’m fine Sigmund.” He closed his eyes and rested his head back against the rest, making sure the harnesses were tight over his armour. His armour, he could feel it against every part of him, close and reassuring, as much a part of him now as his own beating heart. The sound of voices drew his attention. In the cabin, Miehn and Baxson were leading a round of banter between the other Marines, while Captain Weaver stared daggers at them. Every now and then she would glance at him, and a look of uncertainty would try to creep onto her face. Every time she managed to sweep it away before anyone else noticed, but they both knew it was there, beneath the surface. Kirk just looked away and checked his system readouts again on his HUD. Everything was fine. At least his armour was ok. 

The ramp of the pelican fell to ground with a thud. An instant later, Kirk led the way with his assault rifle at the ready, rushing out onto the landing platform as the dozen marines of Weaver’s squad filled in behind him. Kirk swept left to right, scanning all the windows and doorways on the reception building ahead. Just the way he had been trained to. Even during his years of rehabilitation, he had kept up the training of his mind, using VR neural sets to fight stimulated battles and help develop strategies for every branch of the armed forces to use. His instincts and reactions were just as sharp now as they were when he had finished training. Weaver gave the order to move up. The reception building was about twenty meters away, and was part of larger research complex built around a massive, angular, Forerunner spire that stretched hundreds of meters into the sky and even more than that below ground.   
Kirk stood guard as one of Weaver’s men tapped the access codes into pad on the reception door. It was locked down. The entire base was. Huge shutters covered every window and door. After a few seconds there was a beep and the door slide open. The squad slipped inside the room before them, the lights on their weapons cutting through the darkness that laid within. The squad quickly confirmed what Kirk’s motion tracker was telling him; the place was empty.  
“Just as we planned people.” Weaver said as she looked around the abandoned reception. Without saying anything the squad split into two, Corporeal Miehn leading Baxson and half the marines in one direction will the rest waited with Weaver. Kirk began to move to one of the exits, but Weaver grabbed his arm. “Oh no, you’re coming with me, Spartan.” She said. The plan had been for Kirk to go his own, three teams, and technically, Kirk outranked her, but this wasn’t the place for a disagreement. And deep down inside him, he was grateful to be part of a team. He gave a small nod and turned to follow the other marines up the stairs.  
“You don’t have to follow her orders you know.” Sigmund said inside of his helmet.   
“I don’t need you second guessing every one of my decisions.” Kirk said flatly.   
“I just wanted you to remember you can make your own choices. Trust yourself.” The AI said, somehow reading its hosts mind. Kirk didn’t reply. He just gripped his assault rifle tighter and focused on what was ahead. 

The research station was a mess. Weaver led her first through the barracks and recreation segments, and then onto the labs. There was no sign of anyone, but traces of chaos were everywhere. Things knocked over, datapads left smashed on the floor, dozens of personal items left strewn all over the place. And then there was the damage. Ceiling panels had been knocked down all over the place, casting long, eerie shadows that seemed to go on forever. Many of the walls had strange scratch marks on them, and some had been smashed through entirely. For Kirk though, the strangest thing was the lack of any signs of combat. Whatever had happened here, it had happened too fast for anyone to fight back. All they could do was run.   
His motion tracker beeped.  
“Contact.” Kirk said without hesitation, spinning around to face the right direction. He was already moving by the time the others had reacted to what he had said. His rifle leading the way, Kirk moved quickly into one of the side rooms that led off from the main work space of the lab. His movements were smooth, purposeful, swiftly closing in on the source of the beep. There, in the next room. He took a deep breath, his muscles tensing. Around him, he could feel the Mjolnir armour amplifying his every action, following every command his body made. No more waiting.   
He kicked open the door and stepped inside.  
It was empty.  
“There, on the table.” Sigmund said, highlighting a cage resting on a table in one corner of the room.   
“I thought you weren’t a combat AI.” Kirk said dryly. “I did see it.”  
“Just trying to be helpful.” Sigmund said, but before Kirk could reply the other marines had entered the room and seen the hamster spinning in the wheel.  
“Since when did furry rodents classify as a threat?” One of the marines said as the others muttered similar comments under their breaths. One by one they filled out of the room until only Weaver remained. Kirk met her glare. It was like she could see right through his golden visor. She just shook her head and left the room.   
“Siggy, turn down the sensitivity of the motion tracker.” Kirk said as he headed back out to the main lab. Weaver was already speaking.  
“Miehn, tell me you got something. It’s dead over here.” She said over the team channel, leaning her head into the speaker in her helmet.  
“Sorry Captain, nobody here either, though you should see what we did find. If I didn’t know better, I’d say someone dropped a couple of barrels of motor acid in here. Scorch marks everywhere, especially around the security booth near the access point for the Forerunner structure. We start using acid bullets and nobody tell me, huh cap?” Miehn said over the radio. Weaver shook her head.   
“Get Keircherski on comms and contact the Night. We’re coming to you. And tell Baxson to shut the hell up, I can still hear him moaning even if he has turned team-speak off.”

The south sector of the base looked even worse than where they had just came from. More chaos, more signs of fleeing from some unknown enemy, except now the strange scratch marks on the walls were more evident, and they soon saw the scorch marks Miehn had mentioned. Whatever it was, it had melted through layer after layer of metal structure.   
“It’s a type of molecular corrosive, maybe a form of hydrochloric acid. I can’t pin it down without further analysis.” Sigmund said as Kirk crouched down next to a massive hole in the floor. It had gone down so far he could actually see the foundations of the building. The squad was standing in the Forerunner site’s access area, a large hanger like space with a security booth to one side and a floor filled with all manner of examination equipment and a small collection of vehicles. The damage was everywhere.   
“You should send that to Weaver. It could be useful to her.” Kirk said, looking around at all the other scorch marks.   
“I already have.” Sigmund replied simply. “I’ve maintained contact with her since the mission began.” Kirk rolled his eyes.   
“What about doctor-patient confidentiality?”  
“Relax. I’m still all yours.” Kirk rose to his feet and crossed over to Weaver. She was talking to one of her marines, and waved him off as Kirk joined her.   
“Molecular acid huh? Don’t suppose your super senses have picked anything else up?” She asked. Kirk shook his head.  
“Negative.”  
“Great. There’s no one here. All the datapads and computers have been wiped clean, to the point your AI can’t even find anything, and there’s acid burns and weird scratch marks all over the place. What the hell happened here? Could Prometheans do this?” Weaver said as she looked around at the state of the room.   
“Maybe, but I don’t think so. None of the records I’ve seen show anything like this.” Kirk said, mentally flipping through the images he had seen.   
“See, a good Spartan always does his homework.” Sigmund said inside Kirk’s helmet. He ignored it. Before Weaver could say anything else, one of her marines signalled her. They had got one of the terminals working. The two quickly made their way into the security booth and surrounded the console, if it could be called that. It was more a backup door control than anything else, not directly tied to the main systems. Probably why it still worked, Kirk figured. As Weaver operated the basic controls, the simple computer spat out a log of all the events that had occurred in the hanger. It was basic details, but it was enough. They soon came to the last entry:

1000 hours. Full science team enter ruins with specimen gathering equipment. At request of Doctor Meyland, science team accompanied by full contingent of base security forces. Chief Sec officer Sal ‘salamander’ Jordan volunteered to lead the escort team himself. Estimate time of return: 1700 hours.

Weaver looked at the time log. The last entry had been three days ago. Something had gone wrong somewhere in the ruins. Her mind began to race through the possibilities. Maybe it was Prometheans, maybe part of the structure had collapsed. Or maybe it was something else entirely. Nothing was off the table when it came to Forerunners. For a second, Weaver longed for the good old days, where all she had to do was look for the blue and orange aliens and pull the trigger. She shook her head.  
“You two,” she said, focusing her mind on what needed to be done. “Stay with Keircherski and get those communications up and running. The rest of you, we’re going into the ruins.”


	3. Battle In The Shadows

Kirk did another sweep of the corridor with his assault rifle as he waited for the marines to activate the vision enhancement gear on their helmets. It wasn’t as advanced as his own. Hell, it wasn’t even as advanced as his own natural eyesight, but it was what they had. For the last hour, the original blue lighting inside the Forerunner structure had been slowly changing shades, until it reached this strange dark greenish hue that proved hard on the marine’s eyes. Finally, Weaver gave the command to continue, and the squad set off. Their progress had been slow going. With no map and no idea where the base’s science team had headed, they had been forced to check all the side paths, every dead end. As they got further in they had begun to find more science gear, research devices that had been hooked up to all manner of alien technology spread around the ruins. Ruins, Kirk thought, that was the wrong word. The Forerunner structure was magnificent. High ceiling corridors lead to dozens of vast chambers that seemed impossibly large for being buried beneath the ground. Some of them the squad couldn’t reach. Either thick doors had slammed shut eons ago, or the hard light bridges need to reach them had yet to activate. Kirk didn’t know what to make of the place. The chambers that they had crossed looked like hyper advance research facilities, laboratories and bio production facilities, thought that was only his best guess. If Halsey had been here she would have had the placed worked out in two seconds, Kirk thought as he glanced into what looked like a holding cell without bars.   
“Over here.” Private Baxson said over team speak, flashing his light to show his position in the half light. “Looks like this guy ate something that didn’t agree with him.”   
The body was sprawled out across the floor, near one of the exits to the hall. She was on her back, her eyes wide and blank. But it was her chest though that caught everyone’s attention.   
“Don’t be an idiot. Your stomach isn’t in your chest.” Said one of the marines, her voice cutting through the tension.  
“I know, I was just making a point.” Baxson replied quickly.  
“Is the point that you’re an idiot?” The female marine teased.   
“Cut the crap, Santrigo.” Weaver said quietly, but didn’t take her eyes from the body. Baxson gestured with his hand at Santrigo. She just smiled back at him. “You ever see a weapon do something like that?” Weaver asked out loud, ignoring the others. They had all seen bodies before, but there was something different about the one before them. Something sinister.   
“Maybe a plasma weapon? Some kind of grenade?” Corporeal Miehn suggested, his tone serious.   
“Plasma weapons burn flesh. They don’t bend bones outward.” Kirk said. Despite himself, his heartrate jumped a bit. Everyone looked at him, then back at the body and the hole in its chest. Silence fell among the group, the only sound being that of their shallow breathing. After a few seconds, Weaver snapped herself out of it.   
“Ok people, we’ve still got a job to do. Tag the body with a marker and we’ll pick it up on the way out. Let’s move.” 

There was something there.  
It wasn’t on his motion tracker, but Kirk didn’t need it to know that there was something there. He could feel it. He slowly swept his assault rifle from left to right, searching the darkness. The shadows seemed almost unyielding to his light, rushing in like a torrent of black flood water to fill the void as soon as he moved the light on. His mind was having a tough time dealing with what he was seeing. He could see in the dark, but this darkness seemed to be fighting back.  
But there was still something there. He was sure of it.  
Weaver and the other marines had shifted into battle positions the moment she had seen the Spartan shift his stance. A lifetime of battle experience had made it easy for her to see the signs. After a minute of taking cover, searching the encroaching blackness, Weaver crept up to Kirk’s side.  
“What is it?” She said flatly, straight to the point.   
“There’s something down that corridor.” He said without looking at her. For a half a second, Weaver’s first instinct was to challenge him, but there was something in his voice.   
“Can you see it?” She asked, her eyes straining to see what he could.  
“Negative.” Kirk said, all his sensors now at max. Thermal imaging, motion tracking, sonar like audio enhancement, none of his systems picked it up. But his instinct said otherwise. In his peripheral vision, he saw Weaver reach into her pack. A few moments later she pulled out a flare and cocked back her arm as it filled the space between them with a burning, orange tinged glow. The flare arced through the air with an impressive distance before bouncing to a stop at the far end of the corridor. Kirk braced himself, his trigger a hair’s breadth away from firing.   
There was nothing there.   
Weaver lowered her DMR and looked at Kirk. He didn’t move.  
“Maybe the shadows are getting to you.” She said quietly to him, turning off team speak for a moment. After what felt like a long time, Kirk lowered his weapon. But he didn’t look away.  
“Possibly.”   
Beep.   
There!  
There it was for just a moment, on the very edge of his motion tracker. A faint signal that lasted a fraction of a second, speeding away from the group at speeds that would make Kelly jealous.   
“I saw it too.” Sigmund said inside Kirk’s helmet. “We’re no longer alone.”

It had been an hour since Kirk had detected the mysterious signal. Sigmund had told Weaver about the blip on the motion tracker, but she hadn’t forwarded it to the rest of the squad. She didn’t want to panic them, evidently, but what they were seeing now did that all by itself.   
It looked like webbing.  
It was everywhere, a slick, gooey like substance that coated everything. It was on the floor, the walls, and no doubt the ceiling too if they could see it.   
“What the damn is this now?” Baxson asked. “Someone have a party and not invite me?” He joked as he brought his light across the strange substance.  
“From the scanners in 018’s suit, it seems organic, resin like. I regret I’m unable to give further information.” Sigmund offered on team speak. Corporeal Miehn reached out and touched one of the tendrils of the glue like stuff. He wrapped his fingers around it and pulled, hard, before it snapped off with an echoing crack.   
“Stay frosty people.” He said, hefting his shotgun back into position. Slowly, the squad pushed on.   
It only got stranger from then on.  
The stringy spit like resin quickly began to thicken, and grew darker and darker until it was as black as space itself. The air started to feel heavier with every breath the squad took, somehow both crisp and humid at the same time, and had a light mist to it that could only be seen in the distance. Slowly, almost imperceptibly, the natural chaos of the webbing started to form shapes and designs. They were simple at first, more to do with support than anything else, but they quickly grew more complex. There were massive ovals and arcs that reached out from the walls, while on the floor long tendrils stretched out everywhere, making everyone watch their footing. It almost looked like walking through the bones of a spine, yet everything was covered in stringy black webbing that seemed to have no end. None of them had ever seen anything like it. Whatever it was though, it had covered almost all signs of the Forerunner structure beneath. Only occasional outcroppings remained, as well as the ever present green lighting. They had already walked past a dozen blocked paths. With every one they passed, it made Weaver more and more grateful for the inbuilt mapping technology in her helmet.  
“I’ve got something.” Kirk said over team speak as the squad entered another massive chamber, one who’s any hint of purpose had been lost to the dark resin. Weaver was at his side immediately.   
“What? Where?” She asked, her voice hushed.   
“There,” Kirk said, gesturing with his rifle, “five bodies, four of them with the same wounds as the other we already found.” Kirk started forward. Weaver strained her eyes as she looked at shadows where he had pointed. She couldn’t see anything, but she knew the Spartan had better vision. She signalled the squad to follow him.  
The bodies were a grisly site. A huge pool of blood surrounded them, somehow looking more gruesome in the half light. Splintered fragments of the victim’s ribs reflected the light of the touches back at them as the squad encircled the scene. Each of the victims, members of the science team by the looks of it, were covered in the same sticky resin that made up their surroundings.   
Weaver ordered the marines to take up defensive positions while Kirk let Sigmund use his armour to scan the scene. He didn’t like it. This whole thing felt wrong.  
“What’s up with this one? You think they didn’t like her?” Baxson said as he crouched down next to the one woman whose chest hadn’t been exploded from the inside out.   
“Careful marine. Don’t get to close.” Miehn said, pulling rank on his friend. Baxson smiled at him, but didn’t pull his hand away.  
“Hey man, what she going to do, invite me to din-”  
The woman screamed.   
She violently jerked awake as if a thousand volts of electricity had been shot through her. Baxson went flying backwards. Her blood curling screams pierced the silence and sent a chill of fear through even the bravest of the squad.   
“Taro, get over here!” Miehn shouted as they all took a few steps back. A second later, the team’s medic was crouching down by the terrified woman, barging Baxson back onto the floor as she did so. Weaver could have sworn she saw a stain in his pants, but now wasn’t the time. She’d save that for later.  
“Calm down. You’re fine. We’re here to help you.” Taro said calmingly, but it didn’t seem to have any affect.  
“We have to go, we have to go! They’re here! They’re everywhere!” The woman yelled, pushing Taro away before clutching at her neck and chest. Before any could react, she had pushed herself from the ground and started running through the darkness.   
“Someone grab her!” Weaver shouted. Kirk was already moving. Two strides later, his hand closed around her wrist. The woman struggled in blind panic, but only for a second. Something seemed to be happening to her. With her free hand she held her throat as the strength vanished from her legs. She collapsed to her knees as a fit of coughing overtook her. Kirk let go of her and stepped aside as Taro rushed in. The woman was coughing up mouthfuls of blood now in between screams of violent agony.   
“You’re going to be ok!” Taro shouted as she searched through her med kit. By now everyone was watching, whether they were meant to or not. Everyone saw what happened next.  
It started with the sound of a sickening crack.   
The woman screamed in the way only a dying person can. The scientist screamed again and again, louder each time, as she tried desperately to claw at her chest. Taro managed to grab her hands, but the woman was filled with a primal strength.   
Crack. Crack. Crack.  
With every scream, the woman spurted blood from her mouth. With every crack that signalled her bones breaking, more and more blood appeared on her chest.   
And then it happened.  
In an explosion of blood and bone, the woman’s chest erupted outwards. Taro was right in the firing line and was showered in gore as the woman fell backwards, finally silent. The marines stared dead eyed from their positions, their faces white. Kirk had seen it all in crystal clear definition through his visor, and a part of him was thankful the others couldn’t see his face. Then it got worse.   
Something moved.   
Something long and pale and with dozens of teeth. Long, silvery, needle like teeth that screeched in bloody birth. The thing’s hiss was like nails on a chalkboard, and it instantly started writhing about in the unnatural cavity it had created.   
“What the…” Taro said as her hand grabbed her Magnum from the holster on her leg. She had already fired three times by the time Kirk had aimed. Her bullets tore through the worm like thing. It stopped moving, hopefully dead, but as each bullet hit a stream of green blood poured from the thing. Smoke hissed into the air wherever the blood hit.   
Acid.  
“Weaver, it has acid for blood.” Kirk said, but the Captain’s attention was elsewhere. A second later, Kirk saw it too. The shadows were moving. The chamber came alive with noise as the same hiss the worm thing had made was echoed from dozens of places around the vast space, only far louder, deeper. Kirk’s motion tracker was going wild, suddenly overloaded with signals from every direction. Kirk span around, scanning the darkness with every sensor his armour had. There was nothing but fuzz, static and false readings.   
“On me!” Weaver shouted as she brought up her DMR. The marines started edging towards her. They were the only clear signals on Kirk’s motion tracker. One of the signals disappeared.   
“There!” Kirk said, spinning around. There was nothing. He took a few steps forward, scanning. Nothing.   
“Thompson!” Baxson yelled behind him. Kirk turned again, another friendly signal vanishing from his motion tracker.  
“What happened?” Kirk asked quickly as he joined Baxson.  
“It just grabbed him man! It came out of nowhere and just grabbed him! A shadow! This shadow with teeth! It just took him” Baxson said hysterically. He was right though. The man named Thompson was gone. All that was left was a dropped SAW heavy machine gun, lying useless on the ground.   
“Pull your shit together Baxson!” Weaver shouted. “We’re gonna be alright-”  
That’s when she saw it, a shadow peeling itself away from the darkness. A shadow that was mixture of smooth elegant shapes and hard rigid protrusions. A shadow of claws and teeth and dripping drool.  
And it was coming right for her.   
She started firing. Everyone started firing as all around them the shadows attacked. Flashing, screeching teeth met flashes of gunfire instantly. The sound echoed around the chamber, sounding like thunder. The shadows, or whatever they were, were so fast. Every time she thought she had one, it would dart out of the way, or jump and vanish into the darkness above. Even those with the rapid firing, automatic weapons were having a hard time reaching their targets, and weaver could have sworn that even when they did, half their bullets just bounced off. Too her side, she could hear the Spartan firing methodically, swiftly. Kirk’s superior skills and tracking systems revealed just how surrounded they were. The shadows, the creatures moving in them, were everywhere. They would rush forward, darting from side to side, only dodging away at the last moment when the torrent of fire hit one of their weak spots. But they were getting closer, seemingly uncaring of the wounds they were taking or the acid blood that had spilled onto the ground.   
“We need to move, now!” Kirk shouted, his voice carrying with it an all too human trace of fear that sounded even more disturbing coming from a Spartan. Weaver wondered if he even felt fear the same way as regular humans.  
“On me! We’re heading for the exit, now!” Weaver shouted, and then they were moving. The squad moved as one back towards where they had entered. Kirk instinctively moved to the rear of the group to cover them. They were ten meters from the corridor when something grabbed his leg.   
Kirk was already moving his rifle as he fell to the floor. The thing was snarling at him, even as it reached out seemingly from the floor itself, its fanged mouth gaping upon to reveal a second set of gnashing inner jaws. His energy shield sparked as the creature tried to dig its claws into his leg. There was no hesitation. Kirk emptied the reminder of his clip into the things mouth. Its head exploded in a shower of black flesh and green blood that hissed when it hit the ground. Kirk was already up, chasing after the squad.  
“They got Summers! David is gone man, he’s just gone!” Someone shouted, but no one responded. They had bigger concerns.   
The door was gone.  
“It was right here man, right here!” Baxson shouted, slamming his hand on the bare Forerunner wall that had cut off the passage way. The hissing grew louder as the marines crowded round, firing every few seconds.   
“We need another exit Captain!” Corporeal Miehn shouted as he fired his Magnum back into the darkness with one hand. The other was carrying someone, Kirk couldn’t see who.   
“There, on your right!” Sigmund suddenly shouted over team speak to everyone who was left. Everyone glanced in the direction the AI had instructed, only to be met with another blank Forerunner wall. A second later, the wall slid upon.  
Three figures run out, firing heavy machine gun weapons as they did so. One of them looked to the marines.  
“Get the hell over here, now!”


	4. Survivors In The Dark

The half dozen junior members of the science team sat silently in the darkness as the remaining security members swept the small alcove in which they resided. Despite the situation though, all eyes were on the new arrivals, the marines. And of course, the Spartan. Their eyes were filled with hope.   
“Bullshit. It’s all bullshit. We are so dead.” Baxson said as he sat with his head on his knees, more to himself then to anyone else. He lifted his head and looked at the others. “Can you believe this? We’re gonna die man, it’s over. This is the end of the game, I’m telling you.”   
“Get you shit together marine.” Miehn said, but his words carried with them a doubt. Kirk could see it in the eyes of all the remaining members of the squad. He was just glad he didn’t have a mirror.   
It was a hell of a situation  
They had been saved by the reminder of the original security team, though saved might have been the wrong word. They had entered into a set of side passages that hadn’t been touched by the strange resin substance. The security soldiers, led by the young CSO Jordan, brought them to an isolated space that was sealed on all its five sides, where the squad had been met by the still alive Doctor Meyland, who had gone on to explain the truth to Kirk and the rest of the squad.   
The Forerunner structure had once been considered a basic compound on the edge of the galaxy, a kind of routine station theorized to be nothing more than a communications relay point. It had been studied for a decade without results until Doctor Meyland had arrived. Despite his initial reluctance at the post, he had soon found that all the planets of the Hequila-Tanara system contained the same kinds of ruins, and that each of them had dozens and dozens of hidden layers that had never been revealed before. It was here on HT-07 that the Doctor and his team had focused their efforts, discovering a research facility so advanced it had taken him a year just to access the door panels. What they found inside though had been ground breaking and terrifying in equal measure, biological weapons intended to fight the Flood but that had never been unleashed. Meyland had been determined to find out why, and in studying the creatures had somehow unleashed their fury. Almost the entire research team had been wiped out when the creatures had attacked. It had been all Meyland and the CSO could do to seal the survivors away in an unused side passage, though that had done nothing to save the inhabitants of the base above.   
“And you’re sure these creatures aren’t the Flood?” Weaver asked, rubbing her eyes.   
“No, I’m certain.” Doctor Meyland said coolly. “The Flood would have taken control of this facility by now and breached these passages. These creatures, these xenomorphs, seek only to propagate their species, at any cost, and have been much more methodical in their expansion. They go only where there’s a source of new hosts for their, offspring.” Weaver glared at the Doctor. There was something off about him. She wanted to believe it was just because of the days he had spent down here on minimal supplies, but her instinct said it was something else.   
“I’m guessing these paths don’t lead to an exit?” Weaver asked. Meyland shock his head.  
“Very astute, Captain. No, the CSO, Sal, has been scouting around, but no results have presented themselves. At least, not one that we can reach.”   
“Explain, now.” Meyland sat up straighter and pushed his glasses back up his nose. He didn’t seem one bit phased by Weaver’s tone.  
“It would seem that these side passages, or at least a combination of, run through the entire structure. I worked out how to operate the doors that seal them off from the main corridors, but I only have a basic knowledge concerning the security of these systems, and so can’t open most of the passages. I was working on this on my datapad when we were first attacked. If you can retrieve it for me, I’m confident I can open up safe passage for us back to the surface.” He said in a matter of fact like manner, as though it was the easiest thing in the world. Baxson bounced up instantly.  
“No way man, no fucking way. We open that door and we’re dead. They’re gonna get in here and they’re gonna kill us.” Baxson said, his fear controlling him as stepped towards Meyland, aggressively pointing his finger.   
“Stand down soldier.” Weaver said firmly, though Baxson ignored her.  
“And what if we do get to the surface huh, what then? Did you think about that mister know it all? What happens when they get to the surface and spread out over the entire planet?” Baxson was only a few feet from the scientist now, though Meyland still looked unconcerned. Weaver eyes weren’t on him though. She gave a quick nod.  
Before Baxson even knew what happened, he was on the floor. He looked up at Miehn, who had just tripped his friend backwards.   
“There’s no question. We level the entire area with MACs from orbit. It’s the only way to be sure.” Miehn said powerfully, his words cutting through the fear in Baxson’s mind. He pushed himself up a little.   
“Fine. But who’s gonna go out there? Cause I’m sure as hell not.”  
“I’ll go.” Kirk said, his massive Spartan form pushing through to the center of the conversation before anyone else had a chance to speak. “And I’ll go alone.”


	5. Alone In The Shadows

Kirk stepped slowly through the darkness of the hive. That’s what Doctor Meyland had called it. He had given him all the information he had on the xenomorphs before Kirk had left the group's improvised sanctuary. It didn’t tell him much more then he already knew. They were fast. They were stealthy. They were deadly.  
They were natural born killers.   
Just like how he should be.  
He had quickly studied all the information about their physiology and behaviour, what little there was of it. All the rest Sigmund had taken aboard. The AI would tell him anything he missed.   
“I’m not a combat AI.” Sigmund had warned while Kirk had been busy loading himself up with all the ammo he could carry. Weaver had protested against his decision, but Kirk’s argument was sound; his armour and shields gave him protection the others lacked, and without them he could move faster and stealthier.   
“You’ll do fine Siggy. Just let me know if they start coming out of the walls.” Kirk had reassured the AI, ignoring the wavering in his own voice. The irony of the situation hadn’t escaped him.   
Part of him still couldn’t believe he was doing this. Everything he had told Weaver and the others had been true, but he knew Weaver’s objections went further than just being left out of the action; she was worried he couldn’t take it. And in the dark depths of his mind, a cold reptilian like voice constantly whispered that she was right. That he wasn’t good enough. That he was going to die down here, and so were the others. It was all he could do to just push the voice aside and focus on what needed to be done. What he needed to do, regardless of whatever Weaver said or thought. He would have gone even without her permission.  
Something moved on his motion tracker.  
Kirk shifted to cover. Even with his armour’s sensors boosted to beyond the maximum by Sigmund, he was having trouble tracking the aliens. His night vision could see further into the darkness than any human on the planet, but there were still too many shadows he couldn’t pierce. He just wasn’t good enough. As well as that, the resin stuff was still messing with his readouts, despite Siggy’s attempts to clean it up. There were a dozen signals on his motion tracker already.   
He looked around the space before him. He’d already crossed the large chamber where the squad had been ambushed before. He could feel them out there, watching him. It didn’t matter; he had to do his job. Kirk started down the encrusted corridor, moving swiftly, silently, never looking in a direction his weapon wasn’t pointing. Meyland had said his datapad would be on the other side of the level, where they had first made contact with the aliens. All he had to do was get there. That was all he had to do.  
Something moved in the corner of his vision.   
Kirk spun and fired without thinking. His aim was instantly, instinctually, on target. Something shattered beneath the hail of his bullets. It had been flying through the air towards him, and instead, fragments of its flesh and acid blood sparked against his shield. There was so much of it that it triggered an overload alarm in his helmet. The thing wasn’t like the aliens he had seen before, smaller and almost spider like, except for its long muscular tail.   
He started moving again, carefully at first as his shields recharged. The moment that reassuring beep sounded through his helmet he started running again, his form remaining completely stable through every stride. There were more beeps on his motion tracker now, getting closer with each second. He couldn’t tell where they were coming from, so he just kept moving, pushing himself, he’s eyes scanning every dark spot that he could see.   
It wasn’t enough.   
He was so focused on spotting the smaller ones that he never noticed the thing lurking in the wall. It lashed out at him as he swept past, its razor sharp claws scratching the side of his armour. Energy sparks shot out into the darkness as Kirk skidded around to face it. The alien was already lunging at him though, and slammed its massive head into his chest. They both fell to the ground. Kirk grabbed its throat and pushed it up as its strange inner mouth snapped out at him again and again. The alien had one claw on his arm, stopping him from bringing his weapon around, while its other desperately scratched at Kirk’s grip. Before Kirk could break free the creature arced its tail over it head and lunged for his helmet. He barely dodged to the side, and then again as the alien tried a second time. As if in frustration, the alien brought up the claw it had on Kirk’s gun arm and racked its fingers across Kirk’s chest.   
It was all the opening Kirk needed.  
He dropped his gun and using the full force of his legs, pushed into the alien from below, sending it flying over his head. As he did so, Kirk pulled a frag grenade from its magnetic holster and slammed it into the thing’s weird ribcage. The alien hit the far wall with a thud and snarled, but that was as far as it got. The grenade detonated a second later. Kirk barely had enough time to roll for cover to avoid the blood splatter. Half a heartbeat later and he was up. Half a dozen warnings were going off inside his helmet. The alien hadn’t breached his armour, but it had left claw marks on his chest and forearm. That should have been impossible, but now wasn’t the time. You almost died, the doubt in the back of his mind whispered, you weren’t good enough. Again. Kirk silenced his mind and moved to pick up his assault rifle, his energy shields powering up once again. He had barely got his hand around the grip when the motion senor beeped in frantic alarm.   
That’s when the facehugger struck.

“How’s it going with Kirk?” Weaver asked quietly as she rested her head against the wall behind her. The room they were in was essentially bare, just an outcropping here and there and the ever present green lighting above.   
“Spartan-018 is progressing swiftly through the level. At his current rate he should soon reach the area Doctor Meyland indicated.” The portion of Sigmund that stayed with the squad replied to her.   
“Very professional, Sigmund. Remind me to write a commendation. How is he doing? You know what I mean. Can he handle those creatures?” She said, thinking back to all the rumours she had heard about him back on the Night. The last thing they needed was an unstable Spartan on their hands. Her marines were willing to fight, well mostly she thought as she looked at Baxson, but even she had to admit that Kirk was the best chance of getting out of this without losing anymore of her team.  
“Kirk is fine. He is performing well, considering his difficulties.” Sigmund said as Weaver eyed Doctor Meyland. He was sitting near the remnants of his team, deep in thought, his dark eyes unreadable in the half light.  
“Sigmund, cut the crap. This is important. I need to know what’s going on with him if I’m going to protect these people. As commander of this mission I authorize you to tell me. I’ll even take full responsibility if ONI gets all stressed about it. Just help me save my people, please.” Weaver pleaded. Sigmund was silent for a long a moment, an eternity for an AI.   
“I will tell you what you need to know, Captain. This is Spartan-018’s first real theatre of operation.”  
“What? How is that possible?”  
“It’s difficult to explain. Much of the information remains classified, even under current circumstances. What I can tell you is this. As well as their training, all Spartans undergo an extensive augmentation process that alters their bodies, improving their abilities remarkably. The process is, complicated, to say the least. It has been improved over the generations, but originally had a high discharge rate that decimated the numbers of the original Spartan candidates. Kirk was one of these cases. His augmentations failed and left him crippled and in terrible agony, his skeletal system almost unrecognisable as human. He spent over a decade in medical pods while dozens of teams of doctors worked to heal him.”  
“And when they finally did it they still forced him to become a Spartan?” Weaver couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Spartans were legendary. The thought that there was any dark side to them was horrifying.  
“It’s not what you think.” Sigmund said slowly, picking his words very carefully. “The original Spartans were unique in their design. The program was built around them, it’s the only thing they’ve ever known. Imagine that if you can. Imagine what it would be like to have that all taken away from you by something that was completely out of your hands. Kirk spent his entire life training for a war he never got to fight. You couldn’t even order him to stand down at this point.”  
“So that’s why you’re here then, to keep an eye on him and make sure he doesn’t go psycho in the middle of a firefight.” Weaver said. Meyland finally noticed her looking at him. He smiled politely and nodded at her, and then looked away, seemingly unconcerned about the entire situation. It was like he didn’t care what happened as long as he could see the creatures one more time. He was a man without fear in a place where fear went to bred, and that disturbed her. Weaver turned her attention back to Sigmund. “Do you think he’ll be able to take it?”   
“I wouldn’t have let him go otherwise. I have authorization to remotely control his armour if I decide he is going off track.” Sigmund said, shifting his voice into a reassuring tone. “Despite everything he has been through, Kirk is a Spartan. It’s in his blood. The question is whether or not he’ll believe it.”


	6. You're A Spartan, You Always Were

“Get them ready to move, now!” Kirk yelled as he fired shell after shell from his shotgun at the aliens chasing behind him. Corporeal Miehn had given it too him while he had knelt down besides Taro, the medic. She had been injured in the initial attack, almost in revenge for killing the thing that had come out of the scientist’s chest.   
“It’s pretty handy for close encounters.” Miehn had told him when he had handed him the weapon. Kirk made a mental note to tell him how right he had been.   
Behind him, the aliens screamed in pure primal bloodlust. They were everywhere, on the walls and ceiling, jumping from shadow to shadow with blistering speed. Every time he blew one of them away another would just take its place in the mass of creatures chasing after him.   
They’re going to kill you.   
Up ahead was a junction point. One of the side routes was narrower. A plan instantly formed in Kirk’s mind. He approached the junction at full speed and then darted around the corner. The xenomorphs screeched after him, clambering to get into the tighter space. Kirk counted to three in his head, and then spun around to face the horde. As he did so, he throw his arms outwards. The grenades flew fast through the air, straight into the middle of the collection of unnatural looking limbs. As soon as the grenades left his hands he was running. He was already a dozen meters away when the grenades detonated. The shockwave ripped down the corridor, twined with the tortured noise of dying aliens. Kirk stopped and brought his rifle to bare, quickly shooting down anything that even looked like it was still alive. He reloaded the assault rifle and then, for a second, just stood there motionless. He looked at his motion tracker and other system readouts, telling himself all he needed was a moment to reconfigure himself. But the truth was it was much more than that. He reached around to touch the datapad secured to his magnetic latch, making sure it was still there.   
“I’ve informed Captain Weaver. Her squad and the survivors are ready to move on your signal. You’re almost there Kirk.” Came Sigmund’s voice over his helmet speaker. The AI had been largely silent during his venture into the darkness, only speaking to point out possible targets or danger points in the terrain, stuff Kirk had already seen anyways but was reassuring to have it confirmed again. Sigmund’s voice was enough to shake him from his thoughts.   
“I’m on my way.” 

Doctor Meyland had been right about the side passages. The Forerunner structure was riddled with them, all sealed off from the blight that had taken the lower levels. The group moved quickly, the marines hurriedly escorting the tired and terrified survivors of the original expedition. However, it wasn’t all without issue. They frequently came to points where the passages would end, and they would be forced to cross over into the main corridors to find another alternate route. Almost every time the xenomorphs would be waiting for them, on the edges of the shadows, almost feeding off the fear of the humans. It was after the third time they had been attacked that everyone accepted the truth.  
The aliens were hunting them.   
After two hours of running and fighting, the lights above their heads started to turn blue again, getting brighter with every meter they climbed. It seemed that the more they travelled into the light, the less they saw of the creatures, but no one dropped their guard. An hour later, they were back where they had begun, back in the base’s access area for the Forerunner ruins.   
“Seal the gate!” Weaver ordered as the last of her marines were through the opening. One of her men rushed for the gate controls while she and the rest of her team stood guard at the entrance, their weapons at the ready. Despite the bright lights and the glow of the sun behind them, the corridor still somehow seemed to be filled with darkness. It was there, in the distance, where the corridor dipped down, a shadow that seemed to grow with every passing second. Slowly, finally, the door began to close. The sound of its heavy lock dropping into place was music to all their ears.   
“Keircherski, where the hell are you? Get your team to the pelican now!” Weaver yelled over team speak, noting with hope that the base’s communications were back online, at least partially. The plan had been set for ages now; full evacuation. The only question was the marines left on the surface. Since going into the ancient structure they had lost contact with the others. It didn’t seem so much of an issue at the start. “Talk to me private! Where the hell are you?” Weaver screamed, but in the back of her mind she already knew the truth.   
“Captain, we need to move.” Corporeal Miehn said softly. Weaver nodded. “Move them out. Sigmund, contact the Night if you can and inform them of the situation. Tell them we need immediate evacuation support.”  
Miehn gave the command even before she had stopped talking, and everyone started filling out of the room in the direction of the landing pad. Everyone except Kirk.  
The Spartan stood there in the center of the room, gripping his assault rifle while starring at the door. Weaver imagined what he had been through on his solo mission. There were scratches all over his armour, most prominently on his chest, his arm and his helmet. Weaver jogged over to him.  
“Come on, we are leaving. I’ve lost too many people on this mission already. I’m not being responsible for losing a Spartan too.” She said to him, turning off team speak for a moment. Kirk slowly turned his head to face her, but didn’t move any more than that. “Kirk, we need to get out of here. There’s nothing more you can do here. You’ve done enough.”   
Before Kirk could say anything, a massive boom echoed throughout the chamber. A second later, another one, and then another and another until the sound of banging was constant. It was coming from the door.   
All of a sudden, it was like a switch had been thrown in Kirk’s mind.  
He was moving instantly, gently grabbing Weaver’s arm as he did so.   
“That door won’t hold them for long. They’ve already gotten in here before.” Kirk said, pointing towards the acid burns that littered the place. A moment later, they had caught up with the others. And then they all started to run. 

Every shadow was potential death. The group of survivors ran as fast as they dared, slowing only when they had to in order to make sure it was safe. But they didn’t stop. They didn’t dare stop. Every half a minute or so the sound of an inhuman screech or hiss would be heard from somewhere within the base. It sounded closer each time they heard it. Two meters back from the rest of the group, Kirk bought up the rear. He was easily keeping pace with them, making sure no one fell behind. His motion sensor was going crazy. There were signals everywhere, and everyone’s ammo was running low.   
The trip through the base had taken just over ten minutes. Finally, the group made it to the reception center.   
“Let’s go let’s go let’s go!” Baxson shouted as he slammed the button to open the doors for the landing pad, getting more like his usual self the closer to safety they got. Everyone could feel it, that hope building inside, the knowing that they were one step away from home. The door slide open and fading sunlight filled the room. Nobody moved.  
The pelican was gone.   
“What the hell.” Weaver muttered under her breath, but she didn’t need to whisper. Everyone was thinking the same thing. For a second, she just froze; it was all the time she would dare give herself. “Alright people, stop standing around. Combat positions, now!” She shouted in her most authoritarian voice. Military training kicked in, and marines went about securing the room without question, though there was nothing she could do about their whispers and mumblings. “Sigmund, tell me you got through to the Night. I need you to get us another ride out of here.”   
“I’ve located their signal but I’m having trouble getting through. The transmitter isn’t fully repaired. I’ll keep trying.” He said, choosing only to speak over Weaver’s and Kirk’s comms. He had been monitoring all the squad. They were this close to breaking already.  
“We should move out onto the pad. There’s less places they can hide.” Kirk said on the still private channel with Weaver. It went against all conventional reason. But it also might just save them. He hoped.  
What if you’re wrong? What if you get them killed?  
Weaver looked quickly around the room, at all the vents and doors, all the grating in the ceiling and floors.   
“Squad, out move out onto the pad, now!” Weaver shouted.  
“Contact!” Was the only reply she received. The reception came alive with noise as someone fired, and was quickly joined by others. Then someone screamed.   
“Move!” Everyone started moving out of the room, firing as they did so at any spot of shadow or darkness. Only Kirk moved further into the room. Ten seconds after the last of the survivors ran out onto the pad the Spartan emerged in the doorway. He shoved a blood soaked marine out before him and the turned and hit something with the butt of his assault rifle. The marines scampered forward clutching at his leg while Kirk fired, edging back after him. A moment later and the two were there, shoulder to shoulder with the others as they formed a circle in the middle of the landing pad. This was it. The pad was a sold chunk of metal, so the only place the aliens could come for them was from reception itself or up, over the sides from beneath. For the first time, Weaver saw a hint of fear on Doctor Meyland’s face, but she had no time to enjoy it. They were already here.  
“Conserves your ammo! Make it count!” Weaver shouted and fired her DMR at the alien crawling over the side of the platform. Three shots to its head and the thing fell. She took aim at another to her left, but by the time she had it was already dead. Kirk had already taken another alien down by the time she even registered what happened. He was almost a blur, despite standing next to her. Move, aim, fire. That was all it was. Machine like and perfect with every shot. She’d never seen anything like it.  
Inside his helmet, Kirk’s motion tracker was lighting up with more signals than he’d ever seen. With every bleep, he pushed himself harder.   
There’s too many.  
No.  
He shouted inside his mind, forcing the other voice back into the shadows. He wasn’t going to die here. He wasn’t going to let these creatures have his life. Behind him, someone cried out in pain, and a second later one of the weapons fell silent. Someone else had died. Damn. Kirk spun around to provide extra cover while the others filled the gap. In the corner of his vision he saw one of the young scientists pick up the fallen assault rifle and begin firing. The man’s accuracy was way off, but at this point, it was better than nothing.   
“I’m out!” Someone shouted, dropping his battle rifle and pulling out a magnum from a holster on his leg. A few seconds later, someone else did the same thing.   
And just like that, the aliens seemed to get closer.   
Kirks mind was racing. There had to be an answer, a way for them to win. Maybe he could draw the aliens attention while the rest of the survivors made a run for it, using the last of the grenades to take out as many of them as he could. He glanced at the floor though. With every shot fired more and more acid blood ate away at the pad.  
They’d never make it, though it didn’t seem to bother the aliens.  
There had to be something.   
There’s nothing you can do.  
The sound of distant thrusters cut through the air. The sound was getting louder.  
“Captain! I thought you guys were history!” Keircherski’s voice came over team speak. A smile crossed Weaver’s face, but she didn’t stop firing.   
“It’s damn good to hear your voice private. Where the hell have you been?!” She shouted over the noise.   
“Those things ambushed me and the guys while we were working on the transmitter. Torman and I made it to the pelican, but he doesn’t look good. We had to take off. We’ve been circling the base since trying to reach you and the Night. Brace yourself, I’m coming in.” It was like the pelican had fallen out of the sky it was on them so fast. The landing ship swept around the pad firing its nose mounted chain gun into the aliens with no remorse. They were still coming, now more than ever it seemed, as if they could sense their prey was about to escape, but Keircherski had brought them an opening. He brought the pelican down and swung it around, lowering the loading ramp onto the pad.   
“Get your asses in that boat, now!” Weaver shouted, though she didn’t have to; everyone was already moving, the scientists jumping aboard while the remaining security members joined the marines in laying down a final line of fire as they edged backwards. It took less than twenty seconds. Finally Weaver, Miehn and Kirk jumped aboard the ramp, the last of the survivors.   
“Hit it!” Weaver shouted as from behind her, Doctor Meyland pushed through to the edge, determined to get one last look at the creatures that fascinated him. He wasn’t prepared for the way the pelican lurched. Half a dozen hands reached out for him as he fell forward, but none of them were in time, not even Kirk.  
Everything happened so fast then.  
Make a choice. They’re everywhere and this is you’re only way out. But if you leave him, he dies. No one else can reach him. Make a choice. Who are you going to be?  
Kirk didn’t even think about it.   
He leapt out, back to the pad, the thrusters in his armour propelling him forward as Weaver yelled for Keircherski to wait. Two strides and he was there. His free hand reached out and seized Meyland. The aliens had already began to close in, but Kirk didn’t focus on that. With all his strength, he tossed Meyland towards the pelican. The Doctor was flying through the air before he knew what was happening. He slammed into the marines standing on the edge of the ramp, knocking them all off their feet.   
“Get out of here!” That was all Kirk managed.   
Then the aliens pounced.   
They came from everywhere at once. Kirk had never felt his heart beat so fast.   
This is it. This is how you die.  
He started to move, anywhere, but there was no escape. All he saw where fangs and talons reaching for him, pulling at him, scratching and biting. In his mind he prepared himself for the end. He had saved all those he could. He had fulfilled his mission.  
No.  
Something shifted inside him, something new and strange. At the same time though, it felt familiar, a sensation he hadn’t felt in years. It was like a fire had been revealed inside of him, something that had always been there but had been buried under layers and layers of self-doubt that had formed over years of medical induced paralysis. This raging inferno raced through him, burning inside every single cell of his body, filling him with a blazing power the likes of which he had long forgotten. He breathed, though it wasn’t air that filled his lungs, but instead a determination to survive that went beyond any training.  
No.   
I’m not going to die here. To hell with these things.  
Kirk snapped his arms away from the claws of the aliens that were trying to kill him. He was filled with a strength he had never known. Dozens of metal sparks jumped into the air as their claws scratched against his armour, but they couldn’t hold him. He whipped himself around with his thrusters, moving faster than he ever had before. His feet found purchase as he dodged attacks from every side, time almost seeming to slow with every movement. One of the aliens lunged at him. He moved to the left and pulled his arm back. He launched his fist at the side of the creature’s head, sending it flying backwards. Before it had even smashed into its brothers, Kirk’s head was spinning around. The pelican. He jumped over another attack and landed into a roll that pushed another two creatures aside before breaking into a sprint for the edge of the platform where the transport was pulling away. He timed his strides to ignore the splashes of acid still burning through the metal beneath him as he raced towards the edge, dodging the aliens every step of the way. In less than a second he was at the lip. He tensed himself, aimed his arc, and then jumped, activating his thrusters at the apex. He reached out with his hand. He was going to make it!  
That’s when the pelican fired its thrusters. The transport began to move forward, only slowly, but it was enough. Kirk’s hand missed the hold he was going for. His hands scrambled against the plating of the ramp as he slide backwards. It was no good. The movement of the pelican and the momentum of his jump was throwing him about too much. He slide further down the ramp, fingers sliding over the grips. Finally they caught, just at the edge.   
It wasn’t enough. His grip was failing fast as the pelican sped up and away from the screaming aliens below, their fury and frustration flowing from them like a suffocating cloud. He tried again to reach up, but it was no good. Any second now he’d be thrown free.   
A gloved hand reached over the edge of the ramp.   
“I said I’m not losing anyone else!” Weaver shouted over the wind as she stuck out her hand further. Somehow, she managed to grab Kirk’s other hand. He tried pulling his arm away.  
He had no other choice.   
He weighed over half a ton. There was no way she could hold him. He started to free his hand.   
Another hand reached out. And then another, and another after that. Within seconds half a dozen arms were hanging over the edge of the boarding ramp, some of them with harnesses.   
“On three!” Weaver shouted. Kirk nodded. She counted down and together, everyone pulled. Kirk fired his thrusters one more time, though it wasn’t the best angle. With their help though, Kirk got his chest up over the edge. They were instantly on him, pulling him up the rest of the way.  
Kirk looked up at the smiling faces of the people who had pulled him up, a mixture of the marines and survivors.   
“That was the most craziest, awesome thing I’ve ever seen.” Baxson said as he crouched down besides Kirk. He pushed himself to his feet as the pelican began to pick up speed, the boarding ramping starting to close.   
“I don’t know what shook him up more, the aliens or the way you huffed him through the air.” Miehn said coolly while the others started strapping themselves in, nodding towards where Meyland sat cradling his datapad. His eyes were wide and unseeing, lost in thought. Coming this close to death had changed him, like it would anyone who wasn’t trained for it, but Kirk wasn’t sure that was such a good thing. There was something off about him, now more than ever, but he didn’t care. He moved to one of the empty seats. Inside his helmet, his mic clicked on.  
“Well, this is going to be a hell of a report.” Sigmund said, switching to a private channel. “You did really well out there Kirk. How are you feeling?”  
“I’m fine Siggy.” Kirk said, repeating a conversation the two had had dozens of times. He braced himself for the probing he knew was coming, but a light triggered on his HUD. Someone was trying to talk to him.  
“You know I could have you reprimanded for that little stunt back there.” Weaver said with a smirk as Kirk opened up the comms channel with her.   
“Just doing my job, ma’am.” He replied flatly.  
“Is that sarcasm? I thought you weren’t trained for that.” She replied in equal measure, before her voice shifted into a serious tone and her eyes somehow locked onto his, as if she could see right through the visor of his helmet. “Well done, Spartan. I’d have you on my team anytime.” For an instance, Kirk didn’t move. He didn’t reply. He couldn’t. Instead, he gave a single nod to her, a simple gesture that only she would see. It was enough. “Now get some rest. We’ve got a lot of explaining to do when we get back.” With that, Weaver clicked off her mic, rested her head back, and closed her eyes. Kirk watched her for a few moments, then did the same.   
Inside Kirk’s armour, Sigmund smiled, if such a thing were even possible without his avatar. The AI checked his host’s read outs once again, now stronger and more stable than he had ever seen them before. Yes, Sigmund thought to himself again, he was sure in his assessment; whatever else he was, Kirk was a Spartan. There had never been any doubt in his mind.

The atmosphere of HT-07 lit up with a burning brightness as the MAC rounds slammed into the surface of the planet. Four of the massive ordinance had been fired. That should have been more than enough to devastate anything in the impact zone, but as Kirk watched the shockwave slam into the clouds below, he couldn’t shake the feeling that somehow, somewhere deep beneath the crust, hiding in the darkness, something was still alive.  
The xenomorphs were just too damn good at surviving.  
Subconsciously, he reached up and rubbed his chest.   
“Are you in any pain?” Sigmund asked as his avatar flashed up next to the Spartan.   
“I thought we we’re done?” Kirk asked, though in truth he was grateful for the company. Weaver and the other survivors had been confined to quarantine until the medical team was sure they weren’t carrying any trace of the aliens. The only reason they had let him out was because he had been sealed inside his armour the whole time, though even that had been begrudgingly.   
“Oh, you can’t escape me that easily. So what’s up?” Sigmund insisted. Kirk just shrugged.  
“It’s strange. I used to hate wearing my armour. Now it feels weird without it.” He said without turning away from the observation post. The impact zone was still glowing.   
“That’s not surprising. You had a lot of close calls down there. I know, remember. Your readouts skyrocketed when that thing latched onto your helmet.” Sigmund said, his avatar flickering through a notepad. Kirk thought back to the encounter, deep within the hive. His shields were still recharging when the thing had wrapped itself around his helmet. It took him half a minute to pry it off, forcing himself to resist the natural instinct to just tear at it. Its acid blood would have melted through his visor in seconds, and as it was, it had left deep scratch marks in his helmet. But it hadn’t breached it.  
It hadn’t stopped him.   
“So what happens now? For us, for that?” Kirk said, gesturing towards the planet.   
“Well, ONI ordered me to stay with you for the entire mission. Captain Dolma is still awaiting word on what to do now, so it doesn’t look like we’re parting ways just yet. As for the planet, well, that’s interesting. When you retrieved Doctor Meyland’s datapad, I hacked into it. Fascinating, frightening, stuff. Dozens of unpublished theories on the Forerunners, and almost as many about the xenomorphs themselves. Interdimensional travel, alternate universes, biological mutations, the lot of it, it’s all there. And what’s more, Meyland theorizes that all the Forerunner facilities in the Hequila-Tanara system are more biological research facilities like those found on seven. Meyland is already making plans to explore them, and exploit them, if he can. Just between you and me, I don’t think we’re going anywhere just yet.” Kirk looked back at the observation window, trying to spot any of the other planets in the starscape. Nothing but darkness and light.  
“You’re not very good at this confidential thing, are you Siggy?” Kirk said in his flat tone. The AI smiled.  
“Well, some secrets just aren’t worth keeping. Anyways, Weaver and the others are anxious to see you. Something about a smuggled bottle of rum and a toast to the fallen. Should I tell them you’ll be joining them?” It was a question, though Sigmund’s tone made it clear he wanted him to say yes.   
“I’ll be down in a bit. I want to enjoy the view a little while longer.” Kirk said, and from the corner of his eye he saw Sigmund bow in acknowledgment. A second later he was gone, or at least as gone as an AI could be. A distant look came over Kirk’s eyes as he stared out into oblivion.   
More planets. More Forerunner facilities.  
More creatures? It was entirely possible.   
Before, that would have made him nervous, uncertain. But for the first time in forever, he felt none of that. At last, he knew who he was.  
A Spartan.  
And that made all the difference.


End file.
